Follow Me Down
by HanaDear
Summary: Some people measure life by the moments…would this count as one? Izzie and George, set after the Season 2 finale.
1. The Moments

**a/n: Hey, guys. Just so you know I never meant to write this…kinda just happened. It's a little morbid in a sense and may not flow in some areas cuz I haven't written in a while so it may not be my best…so I hope that's okay with you guys. I am a fairly recent fan of the show, to admit I haven't seen most of Season 2, just a few episodes after I watched the Season 1 dvds. So if you believe anything is off about the characters then bare with me. I don't think this will be a oneshot…I'll maybe right more when I get the chance…and maybe it'll develop into something more between these two characters, because you should know I adore the thought of them together.**

Numerous people measure life by the moments. Although there are many people who do, the times in our lives that we classify as truly remarkable, the ones we treasure dearly and keep in certain coveted fragments of our hearts may earn a stifled scoff by others. I guess it depends on, after our countless experiences and influences, regardless what society may have tried to morph us into, the type of person we ourselves choose to be at the end of the day.

Some people identify the worthwhile thrills of their lives as "living in the moment" by thrusting worries behind them, whether it may be by their own self-motivation or the assistance of intoxicating substances or loose passersby. Others regard time well spent as time spent not aiding our own needs, but administering to the pain of others. Maybe the pleasure in your life is filling the cavity of a lost love…establishing the feeling of belonging…finally being recognized for your striving accomplishments …keeping yourself at a distance from the outside world…or just being an asset to someone's life…to be needed.

Sometimes the concept we value as the standard of the great times may be altered accordingly to the own alterations of one's life. At the beginning I find its safe to say I never predicted this outcome. I never envisioned myself as one who actually did change my values for someone; one who would throw away all the effort, sweat, tears and man-hours I had put forth. Before all this I would've stated proudly that I came here to put into practice what I had studied for, that tired of textbook theories and pictures I was here to experience it all for myself. To know what it's like to have the power to save a life. I was never one to completely give up and amble away. Sure, there were times when I really did get too involved. Yes, there were times I felt defeated and helpless so I ran, but I never turn my back completely. And Yes, I had dilemmas but I could usually talk, sift them through or bake them away. Family was just a phone call away. Yet, as I find myself descending these hospital stairs, my own footsteps pounding against the foreboding stair steps below my weary heels, I am astounded at my own previous actions. I found myself gazing slightly into my skimpy reflection from the cold metal railing my hands are steadily tracing and mimicking my descent down these steps. The passing of time that is usually accumulated during the ambling down these very stairs seems to have slowed to nanoseconds, as if my paces downstairs symbolize how progressively my life has descended in front of me. I wanted to kick myself and those previous thoughts away as I lingered on the ironic fact I was going to be a bride just an hour ago. I had my ticket to eternal happiness just _60 minutes ago_. And I missed it slip through my needing fingers.

As my eye makes contact with the stoic ones staring back at me, I wonder what I have become…where all my pent up strength fluttered off to and how to gain it back. Finding no answers from those despondent eyes as I pull my gaze away, I soon find myself taking in the sound of the two pairs of feet pattering loyally, yet almost cautiously behind me. I can distinguish between the stifled, exasperated sighs and absentmindedly tapping of the railing and the devoted silence and awkward footfalls, identifying who each belongs to.

My mind quickly drifts to the followers stationed in my wake. The coveted fellow watcher and best friend… and the derelict lover; one whose shared passion for helping others and adorable nature I formed unpredicted bonds with and the other who was attracted by egotistical, physical reasons that turned into something more. I never pictured myself pushing them away and needing them at the same time. Somewhere in my mind's eye I knew I had already put them through occupational risks they unnecessarily and for the most part, loyally endured. I knew it would be deemed selfish to allow more than one to continue to follow me down.

I heard my heel resoundingly clink the final plummet downwards and onto the steady, reflecting and shiny tiles of the first floor. Something unbeknownst took over me, cracked inside of me once more as I swiftly took off sprinting gracelessly, heels unsteadily clanking, curls flying and dress billowing as I passed the abandoned reception desk, and raced through the automatic double-doors. I was blasted full-frontal with misty night air that blew rebellious strands of blonde past my reddening cheeks. I imagined just how ridiculous I looked as this fluffy, crazed pink puff hurdling as far possible from this building. Some people would even say I portrayed an adrenaline-induced Cinderella. As I continued my escape I overheard the four feet dashing off in my wake, pounding mercilessly onto the cracked pavement in hollow footfalls passing the benches and indigo handicapped parking signs.

And then I stopped.

Having used all the rest of my waning, pent up strength I literally fell. Down upon the rough asphalted parking lot I stumbled, sprawled in a bulbous mess of pink sashes and warm, salty tears that trickled miserably down my crimson cheeks.

Despite of myself, I almost smiled when I felt his hands engulf me from behind. I knew just from the feeling of his gentle hands and the soothing way my body reacted who those hands belonged to.

"Let me take you home, Izzie," his consoling, enthralling whisper weaved through my eardrums. The way I found his voice I heard casually on a regular basis before captivating was beyond me, and it shook me slightly. I idly nodded as I allowed him to help me up, my heels eerily scraping the ground as I was lifted from my lonely pedestal. I found my body racked with tepid shivers, and soon I felt his arm snake protectively around my lower back. Resting my head upon his shoulder, feeling the almost fuzzy fibers of his black suit move up and down as we both took our steps towards the car. Only a few steps behind us I heard a sigh as my hand found its way around, resting on his stomach. Just before he started the ignition after guiding me to the passenger seat that now hugged my dress around me I spoke.

Throat sore from the abrupt disuse and swollen from tears I found it almost too difficult to speak. "Thank you, George," I croaked. I felt him smile sadly as the engine roared on. Squinting as the white lights from the hospital stung my eyelids, I soon closed them. As I was drifting off to the world where none of this mattered for a few hours I felt his hand find its way to mine and softly entangle themselves in a reassuring manner as if to announce, '_I'm here and I'm not going anywhere_.' And although I already knew this, I felt a smile weave itself upon my lips. So as I said before, many people measure by the moments...would this count as one?

**A/n: I would love to know what you think. Let me know and maybe I'll continue. )**


	2. Wandering Right On Through

**a/n: I'm not totally satisfied with this long chapter. I wrote it at different times during the day so it might sound rushed and not flow. I have no clue where I'm going with this.**

We live in a day and age that has a general fear for the unknown. What we do not understand, we usually seek to destroy. And if not eliminate, we aim to analyze until our brains shift into overload and our senses resemble minced meat. But what we are unaware of is that more often than not analyzing directs us to one-sided conclusions, and there we go missing the truth drifting past us, just _wandering right on through_ while our backs are turned in vain. We are of complicated nature. We own too many emotions our unstable hearts cannot control. So what do you do? What do you do when your heart is overflowing with uncertainties, guilt, lust, and selfishness? What to do when your mind is your own worst enemy; a single thought in your brain can direct you on a one-way ticket train to impulsive actions…impulsive actions…to more regrets to cram into your skull. So what do we do?

We don't think…well don't dwell our mind on our sorrow. Don't fret. Don't guilt. Don't lust. Don't be an arrogant prick. Sounds so simple, huh? Unfortunately there is never an answer; you just do what you can. Sometimes performing what is capable is suppressing it all and thriving on. Or maybe sometimes it's merely grasping the warm hand of a beautiful woman whose woes are as vast as the elephant standing in a silent room filled with awkward, fleeting conversation. Yet whose smile is enough to rob the voice from your throat and vacate your lungs of any previous air as if you were sucker-punched…and that same beam that makes you drop all your prior engagements only to do something amusing or astounding or even embarrassing so as to keep that girlish grin from faltering, just so you could steal another glance.

It was quite excruciating to even just observe what Izzie had endured this night. The pain and heartbreak anyone but her deserved. Her tears clawed at my heartstrings in a merciless yank I disliked admitting even to myself. When I saw her lying there, arms encircling her loss, my only desire, if possible, was to vacate the throbbing ache that resided inside her, shining in results of her tearstained face. Before I came to this hospital, I was never one to be somebody's rock. It was never my position to…save someone emotionally. In truth, there's awkwardness just in my own behavior at trying to save myself. But somehow in Izzie's case, it was different. For her, I would muster all the strength I do not own just to help her.

I was jerked from my reverie as the fading of the headlights focused my vision. I didn't even feel my own hand rotate the keys and cut the ignition. My gaze was lured by a faint moan and a tug of my hand. While fingers remained intertwined, Izzie childishly stirred and soon stretched her muscles with a slight strain and whined softly out of weariness.

"Izzie," I murmured out in a low drawl, hesitant to fully wake her. She responded by rubbing haphazardly at her makeup-smeared and reddening eyelids before untangling our fingers, gliding hers tenderly out of mine and reaching for the door handle.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I felt a jolting pang as her smooth fingers slipped their way out of mine; a fragment of my heart suddenly morphed into a hollow existence. Kneading together my eyebrows in disbelief at my own thoughts, I quickly came to my senses and dashed out of my seat, around the headlights, and captured her hand once more before her dangling feet could fall upon the concrete driveway. Slightly startled but displaying a small smile on her lips, swollen from rushes of chilly night air and presumed, stoic nibbling, she gratefully clutches my hand. I felt something prod at my insides and hitch my breathing at the regained contact with her skin, a bizarre reaction I never feel when I'm normally in Izzie's presence.

Shaking my head for the second time within a minute, I gently hauled Izzie by her hand, up the driveway. My hearing drifted to the soft treading of her heels behind me. It felt almost odd having her stumbling along in my wake after the time spent previously chasing her across the hospital parking lot. I couldn't possibly fathom what she was feeling or thinking at this very moment, so I simply pulled her along as I unlocked the front door with resounding click, hearing the lock being turned out of the slot, grazing along the wooden frame in the door. I feebly dropped her hand; I had no desire to show any signs of the truth: that I probably needed the support of her lingering touch more than she needed or even desired mine.

My original plan was to leave her to settle in her room, maybe even start the shower for her, and then tiptoe across the wooden floors to check on her in a few minutes, embrace her until she fell asleep if deemed necessary. But just as all tactic plans go, they alter.

Just as I was slipping a shirt absently over my head, ruffling my brown, unkempt locks into a curly mess, Izzie briskly barges into my room, clutching a cashmere blanket and sporting worn, low-rise jeans that clung to her curves, her strands of pale brown and lingering blonde carelessly dangling down her shoulders, and apparently void of any top other than her underwear.

The sight was enough to halt any previous thought processes.

Apparently her lack of clothing was an everlasting, nonchalant formality to her and she shuffled her way to my dresser, avoiding piles of scattered clothing and various objects. As she went on her way tossing clothes through my drawer seemingly searching for something, I wondered why her customary, skimpily-clad demeanor suddenly began to bother me once more.

With a triumphant, toothy grin she held up a baggy, olive-green shirt and promptly slipped it over her head, smoothing out the minor wrinkles with a swift rubbing motion of her palms flatly over her stomach.

"Wha…why would you…" was all I could stutter out. Smile never relenting, she responded with an effortless "It smells like you…it's comforting."

"Oh…" was all I was able to croak out. Then my gaze fell upon the blanket she was reaching for, having promptly dropped it in a heap on the floor. Before a question could even form out of my suddenly dry lips, I felt my hand being tugged forward, down the creaking stairs, and out the front door. Spreading out the blanket upon the moonlit blades of grass, I simply watched as she finished smoothing it out, sprawled out her body in an exasperated sigh and motioned for me to do the same. As her eyes fluttered close, I flopped clumsily down next to her slim form. My gaze was directed toward the midnight sky, the vast dark mass littered with numerous, glowing stars that gave hope to the hopeless. Calmed by the moonlight I sighed as well. About the same time my own eyelids flickered shut, I heard a peculiar sound. It was not Izzie sobbing. It wasn't her ranting…It took me just a moment more to realize…

_Izzie was laughing._ It wasn't her usual refreshing, pleasant giggle. Between the gasps of breathe, it was laced with bitterness, tinged with spite. Glancing at her features…the chocolate, natural enticing color of her eyes had changed to dark; there was something cynical in her eyes. This is not my Izzie.

"He's dead you know," her voice a fusion of vinegary amusement. "My fiancé, who proposed just one hour before…I risked my job for him…" Her voice faltered. When she continued to speak, the iciness and hilarity had melted into a hushed, gloomy tone. "Everything I worked for…everything I wished for my entire life slipped away so quickly. _Everything_," She hissed out through gritted teeth. "I peered into the mirror when we got home…_I haven't a clue_ who was staring back at me, George, and I'm so scared…I don't know what to feel anymore."

Fully sitting up, matching her posture, I felt my hand slithering its way to her knee, causing her gaze to shift and miserable, enchanting brown bore into my own. My hand, moving with its own intellect, caressed her cheek with what I knew to be my thumb, ready to wipe at any tears she was so stoically determined to keep from falling. And then something happened that because of the way the moonlight embraced her features, and because of how vulnerable she was, I knew I should've been expecting it but I didn't. I didn't.

She pushed me away. It was one swift swat of her hands; it was one indentation in my heart.

"Iz--," The glance she shot me was enough to hush me for eternity. It was disdain…and it seemed to be aimed directly at me; for reasons I simply could not comprehend. So I simply stared as she drew in her knees, her arms firmly encircling them as a protective shell. She rested her chin above her left knee, and braved to peer at me from the corner of her eyes. My best friend was shutting me out and I didn't know what to do.

"I need a sign," her raspy drawl cutting through the silence. "I need to know I can wash this all away and someday soon it will be okay to live again." Her voice wasn't aimed at me, but to the vast darkness hovering above us.

And then I felt it. At first I though it was the sprinklers; cold droplets were spewing at me from an unknown location. A few more seconds revealed that it was rainfall. It was calming, surprising rainfall. Gaping at the night sky I stood, raindrops trickling lazily into my eyelids. Turning to Izzie, I didn't expect her reaction. It was one of faint hope. I sighed in relief as I spied a grin growing on her swollen lips. Baring her pearly whites, she squealed and clasped onto my hand. She began to dance, curls bouncing and twirling with her girlish movements. I saw nothing but beauty.

As the flow of rainwater gradually slowed, I decided we should probably amble our way back into heat. The last thing we need was this angel sniffling. The flow of warmth rushed into my body as we made our way back to my bedroom. With a creak, we situated ourselves on the edges of my unkempt bed, both staring at the wooden flooring as if it were alive and flaming.

"We need to get you out of these clothes before you catch a cold," I dared to pierce the silence. "I could go and get you another one of my shirts if you want," I added with a smile. She simply declined with a quick shake of her head. "I'm too numb to move," she giggled and fixed her eyes on me.

I felt the heat rising to my neck in a feverish, inept fury. "You mean you want me to…" I took in her nod and gulped down inwardly. Hands shaking as I reached for her, I began pealing the clinging material over her head, and clumsily dropped it in a soggy heap as if it had sharpened fangs. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and lust as I felt her hand snake to my cheek and pull me closer. I could feel her warmth breath upon me as I chose to shift my gaze to anything but her. _Anything, but those eyes._ Just an inch apart I felt her eyes flutter shut. As much as my heart stirred and part of me _craved_ the sensation she was pulsing through me, I felt myself adding back the inches between us. She was in love with Denny. I won't take advantage of her vulnerability…I'll hold her…but I won't fill a cavity. She is not acting her normal self…

Seemingly so, she did not understand this. The look in her eyes reflected her…rejection. Mouth gaping with a single strangled gasp, she fled the room.

We as humans are of complicated nature…What do you suggest we do?

**a/n: Feedback is always appreciated.**


End file.
